


incentive

by Birdschach



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, Incest, Lazy Sex, Nipple Play, Parent/Child Incest, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 23:30:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdschach/pseuds/Birdschach
Summary: "Life is give and take, what can you exchange to match, precious vital sleep?" Mitama asks, firing off the haiku she likely just developed during her groaning. Azama couldn't help but grow more annoyed, his daughter was clearly lucid enough to write her poetry, getting up shouldn't be so hard for her.





	incentive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WattStalf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/gifts).



> Back on my bullshit, but it's tagged so you know what you're getting in to.
> 
> Anyway this is how I celebrate Mitama's birthday.

"-ar past time you got up, Mitama," the unmistakable voice of her father chides, as the pillow Mitama held to cover her ears and face is yanked away. 

 

"Sleep is good for growth, a loving father should not, force daughter to wake," Mitama counters, quickly grabbing another pillow.

 

"Now, now. Corrin will give  _ both _ of us a lecture if I don't get you up. And I'd rather avoid such a waste of time," Azama says, forcing the next pillow away just as easily. Mitama groans, for an impressive length of time, before responding.

 

"Life is give and take, what can you exchange to match, precious vital sleep?" Mitama asks, firing off the haiku she likely just developed during her groaning. Azama couldn't help but grow more annoyed, his daughter was clearly lucid enough to write her poetry, getting up shouldn't be so hard for her.

 

Of course, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't care one way or the other. While he didn't indulge in the temptation towards sloth himself, he wasn't very pure of heart for a holy man. If Mitama wanted to waste her days away sleeping, he would ordinarily allow it. Corrin, however, had a war to fight, and an army to control. If Azama allowed his daughter to linger in bed as long as she wanted, he'd be on the receiving end of quite a lecture.

 

“I take it your usual incentive would do, yes?” Azama asks, and Mitama’s eyes open for the first time since he’s entered her room. 

 

“Mmm, yes. I  _ was _ in the middle of a good dream just as you barged in, so that would make it worth my while,” Mitama answers, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. The two speak casually, but most would balk at the very idea of what they discuss.

 

“It’s ridiculous that I must resort to this in order to get you out of bed,” Azama chides, already removing his robes. “Some priestess you are.”

 

“You are the one that raised me, father,” Mitama teases. As her father undresses, she works her way out of her bedclothes, lazily tossing them onto the floor. She sits up in her bed, letting the blankets fall from her chest. “Besides, it’s not as if you don’t enjoy this too. Look, you’re already hard!”

 

Sure enough, the Hoshidan monk is already aroused, his erection straining against his undergarments. Part of him was sure of where this was going from the start, and it didn't take much. Being a monk, one would think Azama would never resort to such a forbidden act lightly. Indulging in the carnal pleasure of any woman was something many monks swore off completely, let alone settling down with a wife and having a child. But to turn around and go this much further? It was unspeakable. Still, the last of his clothing falls away, and he kicks it aside as he climbs into bed with his daughter, laying beside her.

 

“I didn’t raise you so much as your guards in the Deeprealms did, so if any one is to blame it would be them. Still, as far as monks go I’m far from devout. No surprise my daughter would be a far cry from a holy woman!” Azama says, cupping a hand around Mitama’s breast. His finger brushes over her nipple, lightly rubbing against her. Already half hard from the sudden loss of her blankets, it doesn’t take long before she starts to harden under his touch, sighing happily.

 

“An unfair challenge, resisting something wondrous, as father’s skilled touch,” Mitama responds with a haiku, smiling contentedly. “You obviously have quite a bit of experience for a holy man, and it’s not the first time we’ve done this, either.”

 

Not dignifying her with a response, Azama maneuvers closer to his daughter, slipping his free hand down, beneath the blankets that still cover the lower half of her body. He places his hand on her hip, squeezing her lightly before slowly tracing downward, beneath her stomach, then further, until his hand is between her legs. He can feel the heat of his daughter’s cunt, and the dampness of her arousal is obvious.

 

“Ah,” Mitama moans, as he pushes a finger into her folds, exploring her gently. “F-father…”

 

“Yes, Mitama?” he asks, teasing at her nipple even as he falls into a slow, lazy rhythm of fingering her.

 

"You're too good at this," she answers.

 

"Oh, I don't know about that," he replies, smirking. "Perhaps you're just easy to please."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asks, but her father doesn't bother answering. Instead, he leans in, kissing her neck, and slowly working his way up, until he can nip at her ear. Still, his fingers continue their practiced motions, already knowing exactly what his daughter likes. 

 

From the start, watching his daughter squirm at his touch has been a delight for Azama. It's so depraved, in a way which only seems to goad him on. Even now, being so close to her, he can't help but inhale her scent, almost greedily. Being as lazy as she is, Mitama generally goes straight to bed, opting to wash herself in the morning, so her natural scent is intoxicating now.

 

As he loses himself in her, Mitama grows a bit frustrated. Naturally, Azama's efforts go a long way, but even Mitama isn't lazy enough to do nothing. She reaches over, taking his cock in hand, and begins absentmindedly stroking, up and down his length. In a way, her pace is agonizing. It's just enough to stimulate Azama, but so slow it always leaves him wanting more. He has to wonder if she knows how much it affects him, or if that's just how lazy she is. Being his daughter, he knows either is just as likely. Perhaps even both.

 

Regardless, he can't handle her pace for long. Once he's had enough, he grabs her, hoisting her up, onto him. She's not exactly light, having a bit more meat on her than most of the soldiers, but he can still lift her easily. He's not one to talk, anyway, considering he also lacks the lean form of most of his fellow warriors. It seems focusing on healing doesn't lead one to as much exercise as does focusing on the blade, but neither Mitama nor Azama care.

 

"Ha, bored already? My father is impatient. Lacking in virtue!" Mitama quips, turning on his lap to face him.

 

“Says the vixen who won’t get out of bed without seducing her father,” Azama counters.

 

“You offered, I didn’t even ask!” Mitama points out, leaning against him. Even with her on top, it is clear she is not taking the lead. Expecting this, Azama reaches down, lining himself up. Once he is in position, and the tip of his cock rests against the wet heat of his daughter’s cunt, he takes hold of her hips. Whatever shock might have afflicted him the first time they did this was nowhere to be found now. Instead, he thrusts up without hesitation, pushing into Mitama, sighing in relief as her body gives way to him.

 

“Perhaps you have a point. This has become something of a habit, hasn’t it?” Azama admits, settling into a steady rhythm. Mitama hums in assent, resting her head on his shoulder and bouncing along with his movements. Even during something as energetic as sex, Mitama manages to be lazy, and Azama can’t help but be amazed.

 

Still, the heat of her body, the way her tight folds cling to him, resisting his efforts to pull away even though he will be thrusting into her again in only seconds, it’s an irresistible feeling. Even the scent of her hair, bouncing up into his face with each of his thrusts, is enough to keep him going. The monk would be hard pressed to give up such feelings, even knowing how harsh the repercussions of discovery might be. 

 

Mitama simply enjoys herself. If she harbors any feelings of guilt, or regret, towards how far things have gone in this forbidden fling, she does not show it. The soft moans that escape her are almost sighs, quiet and so adorably tired, she feels a mix of comfort and pleasure that could rival even her greatest dreams. As her passion flares, Mitama locks her legs around Azama, using her heels to push him even deeper as he thrusts into her. 

 

There’s always a part of her that refuses to back down, that is so  _ greedy _ , even as she behaves so languidly. She begins working her hips slowly from side to side, increasing the friction between them, and Azama can’t help but wonder where she picked up the new trick. Either way, the new tactic would be far more amusing if it wasn’t so effective. Before long, Azama is at the very limit of his endurance.

 

“Ah, Mitama… you must release that grip you have on me, dear,” Azama requests, some slight panic coming through in his tone. Despite his willingness to indulge himself in his daughter’s body, he does have  _ some _ restraint when it comes to his climax.

 

“Oh, dearest father, always cutting our time short, does mother pardon?” Mitama asks in haiku form, releasing her grip on his back. Hurriedly, Azama pulls out. As much as he hates to surrender to his passion so quickly, he draws the line at spilling his seed within his daughter. Their union is questionable enough, but if he were to accidentally impregnate her? That would be on an entirely different level. However, he doesn’t stop Mitama as she reaches down, and takes him in hand. 

 

With just a few lazy strokes, she pushes him past his limits, showing him just how close he was to breaking his only restriction. With a sudden groan, he comes, most of it landing on his stomach. 

 

“Endurance lacking, maiden left unsatisfied, to sleep she returns,” Mitama says, rolling off of her father and back onto the bed. Azama sighs, more at himself than his difficult daughter. After all, he finished far more quickly than her, and would be hard pressed to convince her to get up now. He cleans himself up as best as he can without leaving the bed, before working his way under the blanket his daughter already wrapped herself up in.

 

Knowing what he’s intending, Mitama helps guide him down, between her legs. It’s not an ideal position, as Azama buries his face between her legs, but as long as Mitama is comfortable he will make do. The monk is no stranger to using his tongue, having pleasured both his wife and his daughter countless times. Often chiding or mocking them afterward for how easy it is, though considering his earlier performance he thinks it best he remain quiet today.

 

He pushes into Mitama, eliciting a moan, as he begins exploring her with his tongue. He uses the majority of his tricks; tracing shapes within her, pushing against her clit, doing all he can to bring her to climax. Mitama seems to be resisting as best as she can, attempting to hide in the sweet embrace of sleep. FInally, however, his efforts are rewarded. He feels her tense up, and his daughter cries out, her pleasure finally overwhelming her. 

 

“There, that ought to do it,” Azama says, retreating from beneath the blankets, back into the air of Mitama’s room. “Now, if you would please get up…”

 

In answer, the monk receives only a loud snore. Unbelievably even for her, it would seem Mitama fell back asleep already. Azama sighs, as he starts to rise from the bed. Before he can make it to his feet, however, Mitama has wrapped her arms around him, and pulls him back down, into bed.

 

“With our power joined, a paradise of slumber, could be ours to take! Even Corrin’s lectures won’t bother us if we just stay in all day. Right?” Mitama asks.

 

“Sorry, but I simply don’t think that would work. A good effort, though. I’m getting up, and if you aren’t out of this bed within the time it takes me to reach the spring, a bucket of cold water will be joining you,” Azama threatens, breaking free from her grasp.

 

“Ack! Anything but that! Torture of devilish kind, father is no monk!” Mitama replies, finally casting aside her blankets and rising from her bed. “Okay, okay. I’m up. Happy now?”

 

Thinking he should have used this tactic from the start, Azama can only shake his head. His usual method is simply too enticing to give up so easily.


End file.
